our love is a -
by cyclothimic
Summary: prompt: 1. Killing Eve inspired fic featuring detective Kara and assassin Lena. 2. Pastry chef Kara and customer Lena. l follows 'the other side of despair' & 'make your tongue go wild', 'love me in a paragraph' series


**i love that y'all just keep requesting i really am very thankful - this is for mylittlericebowl on tumblr :) i totally overworded it, but that's on me!**

 **now, read, ponder, and enjoy!**

* * *

 _Yes, I held on to the stars. Yes, I let them burn me. Because despite the pain, the longing, and the loneliness, they were the only things in this goddamn universe that kept me warm._

- _and it was worth it, k.s._

* * *

Kara Danvers was a very predictable person. Everyone who knew Kara could anticipate almost her every move, imbued with purity and kindness and the desire for all things good, and they loved her for it, even though it could be annoying at times.

Stray dog spotted on the streets? Kara would either buy it some food and milk from a nearby café and made sure it was sheltered under some bench, or pick it up and bring it to the nearest shelter.

An old lady trying to carry groceries up the stairs? Kara would take the bags _and_ piggyback the old lady up to the floor she lived on, regardless which, and then she would call the super and be so nice that the super had no choice but to fix the broken elevator the next morning.

A baby being ignored by the parental units? Kara would sit at the next table and make silly faces at the baby to wrangle some laughs until the parents noticed them again.

Ask her about what happened with The Shiv during the not-heist? Kara would pretend she didn't hear the question and just shut down entirely, lips pursed and eyes focused on whatever she was doing, only coming back to reality whoever asked the question relented and shifted the focus somewhere else.

Predictable.

The one unpredictable thing about Kara was her baking tendencies. She couldn't cook to save her own life – once, she tried to fry eggs and almost burned the building down; she stopped trying ever since. But when it came to baking, the FBI agent always found reasons to do it.

When she was happy, she would bake. When she was stressed, she would bake. When she was sad, she would bake. When she was confused, she would bake. When she felt more lost than ever, tugged in two directions when she should only be loyal to one, she would bake. She watched YouTube videos, followed recipes on Instagram, and did experiments by herself.

Baking made her feel calm. Sometimes, seeing the pastries that came out of her efforts was better than catching a drug lord.

This afternoon, she was called into Henshaw's office. Kane, the CIA Director, and Clarke were there too. She did not see this coming, and she wanted to bolt as soon as she saw her similarly reluctant partner and her superior in the office too. After the completely wordless two hours they had shared in the interrogation room, the two blondes had made a silent pact to never speak about it again if they didn't have to.

It had been a month since then. Lena and Trigger had been in radio silence for that duration, which wasn't all that surprising. They had a habit of going on the down low for months on end and then spring out with some really unexpected move that _had_ to be months in the making. So who knows? Maybe in January, Kara and Clarke would be sent on another wild goose chase trying to track down how they managed to unseat a politician or something.

The two Directors who never saw eye to eye, for the first time, were in consensus about something. They were unhappy about the progress that their two agents had made so far about their cases, both of whom were so intricately linked that the FBI and the CIA had to form a reluctant coalition. Wanted to know what was going on. Asked for a reason why their reports for the heist were so vague and unfruitful.

The two agents took an oath to protect their country from criminals just like The Shiv and Trigger. Except this time, they lied without even blinking. Spouted some nonsense about them being too late. Too dark. Caught off guard. Like they didn't care that their reputation and credibility within their respective agencies could be tarnished because of this.

It was probably – no, _definitely_ – because they both had formed attachments with their respective targets. Kara and her childhood best friend. Clarke and the woman she had tongue tango with in that one night. It wasn't reasonable. Their family and friends wouldn't approve. But they had said and done it all and now it was too late.

She left the headquarters angrier than ever, sharing a long look with her partner before making her way to her car and driving to the nearest Walmart. She picked up the materials needed to bake the latest pastry that had caught her eye on Instagram recently and drove back to her apartment building with the inferno inside her burning more intensely by the second. Her hands were tight and tense. Her legs couldn't stop shaking. And she wanted to rain disaster on _something_.

Another predictable thing about her was that she was too passive. She could never destroy something intentionally. Maybe she could head to the gym tonight and pummel some sandbags. But for now, the only way she could think of to siphon the burgeoning energy in her was through baking.

"Are you grief baking?"

Kara drew out her gun from her hip holster, pointing in the direction where the voice had come from while hastily depositing the stuff on her kitchen counter. But when the alertness in her brain calmed and slipped into an analytical state, she allowed a sigh before lowering the gun and making her way over to the living area so she could see the intruder out of the shadow.

They stared at each other for awhile, one amused and the other the opposite of. The FBI agent tightened her grip on the gun but proceeded to replace it in the holster. She crossed her arms and looked skywards, closing her eyes and summoning the strength that had dissipated from being essentially scolded by her superior this afternoon.

"I don't –"

She released a huff and shook her head, turning back to the kitchen. And then she proceeded to just unclip her holster, roll up her sleeves, put on her apron, washed her hands, and baked. Lena's eyes were burning into her from across the room, but Kara was adamant to not pay her attention, instead focusing on the task at hand – measuring flour, beating eggs, dripping color additives, and all that jazz.

For the next two hours, Kara baked in the kitchen and Lena stared. Not a word was spoken. Throughout the whole process, the blonde wished that she had just been too wrapped up in the case that she was starting to imagine things. But the gaze directed at her felt all too real – she couldn't forget the way it used to make her skin flush and her heart skip.

She was trying a little too hard for the gaze to not have the same kind of reaction on her. She might be failing.

The sense of satisfaction that usually came with seeing the end product was deeply muffled by the self-consciousness eating at her very skin. She couldn't react much except a small smile when the tray exited the oven and onto the counter. One glance to the living room and Lena was still there.

"Come on," she called out. Cabinets were opened and plates and cutleries and glasses were produced. "Grab the red wine from there." She pointed at a random cabinet when Lena finally neared the counter.

"What's this?" Lena stared at the pastry Kara had put on her plate curiously and slid a glass of wine over the counter to Kara.

Kara shrugged, still not looking at Lena. She trained her eyes on her own pastry and carefully cut off a piece with a fork. "Instagram calls it the Pavlova."

She expected something from Lena. Maybe a quip. Maybe an observation. But all she got was a hum. And then they were ensconced in silence, accompanied by the occasional clink of fork against plate, unintentionally loud sips of wine, and the loud conversations carried out in the streets below.

"I didn't know you can bake so well," Lena commented.

"How could you?"

It came out harsher than she intended. Or perhaps she did intend for it to be this harsh. She didn't know. It just came out and Kara didn't intend to take it back. Judging by the sharp exhale Lena released, it wasn't missed.

They went back to complete silence until the wine was drained and the plates were clean save for a few crumbs. Kara put the other two Pavlovas aside, reminding herself to pack them later for Mrs. Gibson a couple of floors below. And then she tossed the dishes into the dishwasher and started it up.

When she turned back around, the apartment was empty except for her. Lena could have easily been a figment of imagination if not for the red lipstick stain on the glass.

* * *

Entering Quantico and throughout training, all trainees were imbued with a sense of alert everywhere they went whenever it was. Kara carried that training with her even at the headquarters. Still, she couldn't help but jump when she walked into her apartment and the lights turned on without her hand reaching for the switch.

The only place she could let her guard down was her home. Now, seeing Lena sitting on the same armchair as she had last time, it seemed that Kara had to be alert even in the space she considered the safest. She allowed the exasperation to show on her face, pursed lips and furrowed brows, but otherwise, she chose not to comment. Instead, she recalled what they did the last time Lena visited and went for the fridge, taking out a container of leftover crème brûlée macarons that she had baked two days ago.

The crime lord, as if knowing what Kara needed without needing her saying it, just took out plates and glasses and wine bottle from the cabinets and fridge. Kara watched surreptitiously, fighting the urge to comment on how her childhood best friend had remembered her movements from last week. Once Lena had laid them all out on the island, Kara placed one pastry on each plate and poured them each a glass of white wine.

Not far from them was a folder that was two papers thicker than yesterday. Kara did it intentionally, and she was sure Lena saw it by the way her lips quirked, like she was amused.

"Senator Graham James was found dead today. One shot to the hat and one shot to the…crotch," Kara forced out, almost huffing at the way Lena's smirk lengthened.

The woman hummed and just closed her eyes in appreciation when she scooped a forkful of pastry into her mouth. Kara tried her very best to not watch the way her lips moved so slowly and gently to accommodate the chewing motions. It was so _not_ sexy. Definitely not.

"We found his body because someone dropped a tip in our system. Our highly encrypted system."

Lena made a humming noise again. "Very kind, don't you think?"

Kara raised her brows. "Sure," she drawled, eyes narrowed.

Sooner than she thought, Lena had polished off the pastry from her plate and proceeded to down the entire glass of white wine. Then she stood up and slid around the edge of the island to stand closer to Kara. So close that the blonde could feel the fabric of Lena's blouse against her forearm. Kara clenched her jaw, her head bustling with the wonderment of whether Lena would feel the same in her arms.

It really wasn't helping that Lena's eyes were so goddamn green, so clear, so _forthcoming_. Kara chose to close her eyes and depend on her ears.

"I hope you also found that Senator James ran a human trafficking ring, mainly girls from Ukraine. He was also kidnapping babies from mothers in India. Wash trading with the money his supporters pay with their flesh and blood. But if you haven't, I'm sure the CIA will inform you when they get the information tomorrow." A distinct press of wet lips against her cheek sent shivers down her spine. "Happy hunting," Lena whispered into her ear.

The warmth was gone instantly. Yet it felt like Kara was ensconced in fire, her entire being set aflame. She opened her eyes and wasn't even surprised to see that her companion was gone, once again; the window to her fire escape opened.

* * *

"Bon bon?"

Clarke stopped in her tracks from a few feet down the aisle, probably unnerved by Kara's outstretched arms into the middle of the aisle, offering a container of bon bons. Blinking rapidly, Clarke made the rest of the way until she reached Kara's cubicle and hesitantly but surely picked out a bon bon from the container, bringing it to her lips carefully, like it could kill her.

"Griffin, we've been partners for more than one year now. You have to start trusting me," Kara complained with a roll of her eyes when she replaced the container on her desk.

"It's not you I don't trust. Your sister has told me about your wild tales in the kitchen."

Ah, that made sense. Except – Kara frowned, swiveling in her chair to face the other blonde fully. "You talk to Alex?"

The expressions flitting across Clarke's face ranged from caution to surprise to pure delight as she chewed on the bon bon. It took her awhile to process Kara's question, to which she just nodded with a nonchalant shrug and spoke around the pastry, "Oh yeah, we hang out almost every week. She and her drinking pals share the same bar with me and mine. Coincidence, right?"

"You're drinking buddies?"

"She's a pretty good drinker."

She would have asked further, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Her sister's terrible drinking habits had become somewhat of a legend amongst all the American intelligence agencies; it was reasonable to think that Alex still held her job was solely because her capabilities to be smarter than everyone in the room even when intoxicated – that was exactly why she was a legend.

It had gotten worse since Maggie broke up with her to transfer to the New York Police Department, which was why Kara had appointed James to give her updates every time they went out drinking. Kara was still waiting for the almost inevitable phone call when Alex would end up in the hospital or something. Mentally, she made a note to visit Alex at her apartment and stage an intervention as soon as her calendar cleared up to match with Alex's.

"So, Senator James," Kara directed, standing up and leading Clarke down the aisle to one of the meeting rooms.

"How do you know I'm here because of him?"

Kara kept her mouth shut, coming up with reasons that would not expose the clandestine visits she had been having, the most recent one being last night. "Because we both know that his death was none other than our cases. And they don't kill for no reason."

"Right," she heard Clarke muttered behind her as they entered the meeting room and closed the door behind them. "One of our techs noticed an abnormality in our system this morning. Took half an hour to field it out from lines and lines of code, then another half to decrypt it. They have really good tech people. It's a tip." Clarke tossed a file on the table and gestured at it. "Human trafficking."

 _From Ukraine_ , Kara provided in her head.

"Child abduction."

 _From India_.

"Wash trading."

 _From his supporters_.

"All the data. The resources. Dates. Names. Amount of cash. Cash codes. Offshore accounts. Transport. Everything. They gave us everything. We can arrest everyone affiliated."

"How can you not be sure that they've already made their moves on these people?"

Kara picked up the folder and read over the list of names, the people who were involved with Senator James' illicit activities. There were lawyers, policemen, even someone in the White House. This could shake up American politics to another level. Unseat a few governors and members of the House if they did things right.

Right. So this was why Lena and Trigger wouldn't make a move on these people. They were too small of figures in this game. Senator James was the figurehead, the big boss, and Lena just couldn't let him be. Kara was sure Trigger took pleasure in shooting his balls off too. There was a bigger game at play here, but Kara just couldn't figure out what. Lena certainly wouldn't tell her.

"We're not going home today," Kara said, closing the file and directing a pointed look at the other blonde.

Clarke only nodded in confirmation. "Mind if I set up office here?"

The next twelve hours were spent consolidating information and finding connections between each individual listed in the folder. They called in a few tech support, both FBI and CIA, to track the offshore accounts, the transport, and the cash codes. At the end of hour twelve, they had everything needed to make arrests and, hopefully, save the helpless women and children brought into this ring for no reason other than the fact that they were at the wrong places at the wrong time.

When she finally made it home, she hadn't slept for more than two days and was ready to just collapse in her bed. But her plan was halted at the new bottle of white wine – much more expensive than the one she had in her fridge – with a note attached to it.

 _Good job. P.S. The bon bons were delicious. – L._

* * *

She had only ever been to the CIA headquarters a handful of times throughout her career, so she had to pull aside an agent to ask where to locate. Unsurprisingly, the agent was suspicious, especially when Kara was carrying a mysterious paper bag. But one phone call was enough and a check of credentials were enough for the agent to drop the suspecting act and direct her to the fifth floor.

Clarke was already by the bank of elevators when Kara came out. The FBI agent just offered the paper bag and said, "Pecan pie?"

Her partner, who had only seemed curious earlier, narrowed her eyes in suspicion and tilted her head, warily reaching for the paper bag and peeking inside. "Are you bribing me?"

Kara shrugged. "I like to bake," she said with a smile.

The smile was careful, pending. Just because she had made the decision to lay her cards on the table with her partner didn't mean she wasn't nervous. She still liked her job, and there was a huge chance that Clarke could snitch on her. Kara could even be charged with obstruction of justice for this.

"I also have something to tell you."

Clarke must have seen the way she bit her lip and her right eye twitch, because instead of teasing her, she just nodded and motioned for Kara to follow. As they made their way down the aisles of cubicles, Clarke called to a Reyes and said she would be taking an indefinite break. What ensued was several minutes of jabbing from both sides until they reached a nondescript door and a promise of free coffee the next morning from Clarke before the two blondes entered the nondescript room.

The light was switched on and the CIA agent gestured at the table in the middle of the room. Ah, so this was their interrogation room. It wasn't much different from the FBI's. They sat down and Kara watched her partner bring out the container with the pie inside.

"I hope it's as good as the bon bon," Clarke murmured. "Okay, let me guess. The Shiv has been showing up at your apartment and you've been baking for her."

Kara blinked. And blinked again. Her fists that were tightly clenched on the table loosened immediately and she sagged in her seat with relief. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, never having thought that it would be so easy. That she didn't actually _have_ to say it.

When she opened her eyes again, her partner was just staring at her with a knowing look and something else. Kara took a moment to identify it as sympathy. "How did you know?"

Clarke clenched her jaw and carded her fingers through her hair, propping her chin on the same hand as she drummed her other hand on the table. "We're dating."

"You're –"

"Trigger. I'm dating her," Clarke provided. Kara looked up at the security camera. "Don't worry. I turned off the recording devices. It's just us." Clarke shifted her gaze from Kara and to the boxy television sitting on a rack behind the FBI agent. "It's stupid. I'm pretty sure that I'll lose my job any day now. Tried to put a stop to it. She respected it, you know. She stopped looking for me. But I –" Clarke heaved heavily and displayed a sardonic smile with a shrug. "I couldn't let her go. So, you know, I decided to hell with it and just went with whatever it is I'm doing. Besides, no one's seen her face anyway. I could bring her to meet my friends and they wouldn't know."

"I would."

"Yeah, but you're _baking_ forThe Shiv."

Kara frowned, jaw dropping a little. "That's not even the _same_ avenue as –"

"Kara, come on."

"What?" The FBI agent straightened in her seat, frown deepening at her partner. She would have stomped her foot if it wasn't for the fact that she didn't want to act childish in front of the woman.

Clarke sighed and said, "I know we've never talked about it. It's been like…three months since the so-called heist where we first met our targets. I made out with my target and now I'm dating her. _Something_ obviously happened between you and The Shiv. Le – Trigger didn't tell me what your history is, but she told me that The Shiv cares about you." Kara attempted to ignore the almost slip. "Deeply. That one of the reasons she's even doing whatever she's doing is because of you. We can't drop the case; we both know that. Not until we find a legitimate excuse to drop it or pass it on to someone else. And honestly, I don't trust anyone else. I don't want anyone to arrest my girlfriend. I like her. I _really_ like her, okay? And I –"

"Clarke." The other blonde stopped rambling, blinked, and then realized she was rambling. She mouthed an apology and Kara nodded. "Continue."

"My point is: we can't drop the case. But The Shiv cares about you, and you _obviously_ care for her. Don't even try to deny that," Clarke added when Kara opened her mouth to do exactly. "If you don't care for her, we wouldn't _still_ be here."

Kara clicked her teeth together and could already feel the temptation to grind them. She didn't come here to get called out – she came here to confess her sins – but she got exactly that. Clarke's words rang true and heavy in her head, igniting that sense of self-awareness that she had tried to keep buried since she first saw Lena in her apartment.

Still, she didn't want to face the truth. The truth where she had come to expect and maybe even be excited for the prospect of a criminal visitor every time she was done with work. The truth where she had to fight a smile as she watched Lena eat every bit of the pastries she made, even though as her memories served, Lena didn't have much of a sweet took. The truth where she always tried to prolong the visits by buying more expensive and making bigger portions. The truth where she didn't want to tell anyone about the visits because she wanted to keep it to herself, to keep _Lena_ to herself.

"We are in very difficult positions here, but I think – I think maybe it can be easier if _we_ make it. Do you understand?" Clarke implored.

The two partners stared at each other for awhile – Kara trying to pass on the doubts in her head and Clarke trying to deliver a friendly advice to make the other blonde's life probably a little easier. Kara then stood up, nodding resolutely.

"I have to go."

"You can call me, if you want," Clarke said, stopping Kara from opening the door. When Kara looked back, the CIA agent only shrugged with a soft sigh. "It's not like we can tell anyone else about it."

The forty-five minutes spent stuck in traffic were probably the longest forty-five minutes of her life. Of all the days for a car to run into an innocent biker, it had to be _today_. Kara didn't know how, but she had a feeling that she wouldn't be alone if she had been home right now. Except she couldn't be sure if she would be arriving home to the same non-loneliness or a note.

She hoped it would be the former. But then again, she kind of hoped it would the latter. She wasn't really sure what she wanted. The only thing she was sure about was that she would get some answers to day; she would face the truth today.

The anxiety in her only dissipated when she came home and saw the familiar blue coat hanging on the coat rack and a very delicious ass sticking out of the fridge. Kara slammed the door closed and approached the island, not even waiting for Lena to look at her.

"What is this?"

The rummaging stopped, followed by a moment of pause where the ass just stuck out and Kara tried to not look at it but couldn't, and then Lena finally straightened up, a fork poking out of her mouth while one hand held a plate of pecan pie, half eaten.

It shouldn't be adorable. Kara was frustrated and annoyed and she really shouldn't find the sight adorable. But she did. It was goddamn adorable. _Lena_ was goddamn adorable. Seeing this reminded of them when they were in sophomore year and Lena used to come by the Danvers house for family dinners, where her home was Lena's home, where there was no shame for the raven haired woman to poke in her fridge for a snack or drink.

The curious look on Lena's face propelled Kara. "What are we doing? Why are you risking yourself like this? Why are you _here_?"

"Ah," Lena spoked around the fork, taking it out and shoving more pecan pie into her mouth. "We're doing this now."

"What? What are we doing, pray tell?"

Lena put down the plate and leaned against the island opposite Kara, eyes trained unwaveringly on the blonde. "I'm here because you want me to."

She was almost rendered speechless at her childhood friend's audacity. Well, _almost_. Because she had a lot to say, except maybe she didn't know how to put them together coherently. Never mind that, she was going to _say it_. " _Excuse_ me?" she gasped, blinking at the woman. "You – Did I _invite_ you into my home? You barged in and started eating up all my pastries is what you did. I don't know how you do that even! I turn around and you're gone! But you're always here! You're always here and we don't talk about anything!"

"The first time I came; I wanted to check in on you. I learned something new about you. You _baked_ for me and you gave me wine." Lena raised her brow in that regal way of hers – it used to be endearing, now it was just annoyingly challenging. "That's why I keep coming back. You keep giving me wine and baking me pastries. You _want_ me here. Sure, we don't talk about anything, but I've always given you chances to talk to me. If you don't want to, I'm not going to force you. What I can do is to show up, because you want me to."

Kara gaped at the woman, the wheels in her brain processing Lena's calm and coherent explanation. All said with a calm face – not mocking, not teasing, but as an assuagement to what Kara wanted. Just as she had done with her constant appearances.

"So what? Just because I want you to show up, you do that? Are you forgetting that I'm the one who's on your case? I could have arrested you that first time."

"And I would have let you."

She couldn't remember the last time her heart had panged so hard against her ribs that it hurt. It hurt so badly. The thought of Lena risking everything just because deep down, she still knew Kara well enough to know what she wanted. The thought of Lena willing to sacrifice her freedom at the mere chance of Kara's sense of responsibility just because of the blonde's unspoken desire for her to keep coming.

Not even the reality of Lena leaving without a word and coming back eight years later a criminal mastermind hurt as much.

"Let's just forget about the fact that I could easily escape even if you put me in supermax. Forget about the fact that I have a team of lawyers behind me – powerful lawyers – who can get me out faster than you can read me the Miranda. But if you arrest me, right here and right now, I would have let you."

"Why?" She couldn't help the way her voice cracked.

Lena just smiled a sad smile and fed herself the last piece of pie before rounding the island to stand next to Kara. They leaned against the same thing, facing opposite directions. It was kind of an ironic statement of their current situation.

"Because I left you for eight years," Lena whispered, her voice thready and not as calm as earlier.

When Kara found the bravery to turn to the woman, Lena's eyes were wet but there were no leakage. Lena wouldn't allow her decorum to slip so easily – this was as weak as she could get.

"I can't…explain everything to you. Not yet. What I said last time was true. I _am_ protecting you, whether you choose to believe it or not." It came out soft and fragile. Laden with the weight of the secrets that had seemed to land a permanent posture in Lena's frame. "But I had hoped that you would have…moved on. That night at the bank, I realized how unfair I have been – to watch you and have you kept in the dark about me. And I couldn't – I'm done doing that. I don't want to do that." Kara almost wanted to stop her, able to see the struggle Lena was having, but she wanted to hear it, more than anything. "I want you to be able to see me and know that I'm fine. To know that I'm not hiding – not from you anyway. I'm here. I'm safe. It took eight years, but I'm _here_." The raven haired woman finally looked away from the dining table to Kara, questioning look in her eyes, quietly wondering if Kara understood what she was saying.

All at once, the air pocketed in Kara's lungs left in a whoosh, because she did. She understood. What Lena was doing here. Why she was even here. Kara understood everything. She clenched her jaw and offered a minute nod, mildly gratified at the relief that flooded Lena's expression.

"I can't forgive you yet," she said.

Lena nodded. "I know. I don't expect you to."

"I'm still not sure what –" The blonde made a general motion in the air, shaking her head. There was a folder in her bag, heavy and present, one that she never failed to flip every night now that she could put a face to the name. "I'm not sure."

"I know."

"But _thank you_." Kara made sure to lock eyes with Lena to ensure that the other woman could see the sincerity in her words.

Lena inclined her head in acceptance and pushed away from the island. She stuck her hands in the back pockets of jeans and Kara had never seen the woman like this before. So small and uncertain.

"If you want me to come by again, just give me a signal. Don't worry about how. I'll know."

Kara narrowed her eyes. "You're not stalking me, are you?"

Lena chuckled. And for the first time since they first reunited, after the knot in her chest had loosened that much slightly at Lena's explanation, Kara could finally remind herself of how much she adored that noise. That sound of light that Lena rarely released.

"Goodnight, Kara."

Kara watched as the woman pulled on her coat and walked behind her. She gave it ten seconds before she turned her head to the other side. She was alone again in the apartment. The window to the fireplace wasn't even opened.

* * *

 **probably not as fluffy as you'd imagine it to be, but hopefully it's not as angsty as you wish it's _not_ :P **

**anyway, if you guys want to get on the express prompt train, just go to my tumblr and you will easily find a commission guideline :)**


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